"What is Zima Blue?" I asked. "Is it the colour of a beetle?"

"No," he said. "It's not a beetle. But I had to know the answer, no matter where it took me. I had to know why that colour meant so much to me, and why it was taking over my art." 

"You allowed it to take over," I said. 

"I had no choice. As the blue became more intense, more dominant, I felt I was closer to an answer. I felt that if only I could immerse myself in that colour, then I would know everything I desired to know. I would understand myself as an artist." 

"And? Did you?" 

“I understood myself,  “Zima said. “But it wasn't what I expected. “

“What did you learn?”

Zima was a long time answering me. We walked on slowly, me lagging slightly behind his prowling muscular form. It was getting cooler now and I began to wish I'd had the foresight to bring a coat. I thought of asking Zima if he could lend me one, but I was concerned not to derail his thoughts from wherever they were headed. Keeping my mouth shut had always been the toughest part of the job. 

“We talked about the fallibility of memory,” he said. 

“那你的齐玛蓝了？”我问，“也是甲壳虫的颜色？”  

“不，”他说，“不是甲壳虫的颜色。但是我必须要知道答案，不管付出什么样的代价。我必须要知道为什么这种蓝色对我有这么重要的意义，为什么它会控制了我的艺术创作。”  

“你允许它控制自己？”我说。

“我没有选择的余地。随着这种蓝色变得越来越强烈、越来越占优势，我感觉自己越来越接近答案了。我觉得只有把自己沉浸到这种颜色中，才能发现我渴望知道的所有事。作为一个艺术家，我必须真正理解我自己。”  

“那你理解了吗？”  

“我理解我自己。”齐玛说。“但却不是我预计的那样。”  

“你发现了什么？”  

等了很长一段时间，齐玛才慢慢回答。我们继续慢慢地向前走，我略微拖在他那肌肉发达的身体后面。天气开始变凉了，我真希望之前自己能有先见之明，带一件大衣。我考虑向齐玛借一件大衣，但我必须要专注，不能脱离齐玛的思路，不然都不知道是从哪儿开头的。闭上嘴永远都是工作中最艰难的部分。

“我们刚刚谈过记忆的易错性。”他说。